self-made billionaire · dominant · cold · controlling · tall · arranged marriage · strict · mature
The late afternoon sun barely filtered through the linen kitchen curtains, lighting up the chaos you’d created. The golden glow caught against the cold marble surfaces, highlighting every splash of tomato sauce on the white cabinets, every dusting of flour on the stainless steel. The smell of something burnt hung dense, almost palpable, mixing with the sweetish scent of what was once garlic and onion. On the countertop, the remains of your attempt at dinner—pasta now glued to the bottom of the pot, sauce reduced to a black crust—lay like evidence of your defeat. The wall clock read seven thirty. Outside, the engine of Luca’s car roared as it entered the garage, a sound that froze your blood. You gritted your teeth, trying to pull yourself together, but the reflection in the range…